Too Hard to Forget (Romancing the Clarksons Book 3)

by Tessa Bailey

  “No! Not a hookup.” Belmont sighed in the driver’s seat. “And by the way, you’d be one to talk. I seem to remember freezing my ass off in the woods last week to help build Grace’s memorial.”

  “Fair point.” There was a smile in his voice. “Continue.”

  “This player left school because his family farm is being foreclosed on. I’ve already set up an online auction—”

  “Web address?”

  She rattled it off.

  “Where is the foreclosed property located?”

  “Bloomfield, Indiana—”

  “Whoa.” A door closed on the other end, then all she could hear was Aaron’s fingers punching buttons on a computer keyboard. “Please don’t tell me you are literally driving back toward California right now.”

  “It would appear that way, bro.” Sage and Belmont must have heard Aaron’s question, because they were both shaking their heads. “But not the whole way. Just far enough to reach Indiana and pay the bank.”

  A low whistle. “Damn. You put this auction together, Peggy?”

  She could picture him scrolling, looking at the new items she and Sage had been adding while Belmont sped them toward Indiana. The ticker keeping track of how much money they’d raised, alongside a picture of Kyler in his football jersey. “It was my idea, but I couldn’t have done it without Bel and Sage. It was a team effort.”

  “I’m impressed. Not to mention wishing I’d given you more administrative work while we were pulling everything together in Iowa.” A beat passed. “I underestimated you, Peggy. I shouldn’t have. This is an accomplishment in itself.”

  “Thanks.” Dammit, she hated being the one crier in the family. The struggle was real not to break into tears over a simple compliment. But a compliment wasn’t simple coming from Aaron, was it? More like the Pope blowing you a kiss from the Pope Mobile. “Um. So, we’re about an hour away and the foreclosure could be any time. Assuming we make it, I just need a way to stall until the auction closes tonight.”

  “Can you get the name of the bank?”

  “Probably,” she said on an exhale, knowing it would mean calling Elliott and having him get in touch with Kyler. “Yeah.”

  She could sense Aaron’s no-nonsense nod. “Text it to me and I’ll give them a call.” He laughed. “Or maybe I’ll have Senator Pendleton do it. He’s still trying to lure me back onto his advisory committee.”

  Excitement was blurred by concern for her brother. “Is that something you want?” She swallowed. “To go back to working on the campaign?”

  “Hell no. Grace and I are a team now. We only work for each other.” Pride had thickened his voice. Contentment. And maybe a touch of residual fear over having almost lost his chance with the politician’s daughter. “But hey. That doesn’t mean I can’t let him think there’s a chance, right?”

  Peggy laughed. “Thanks, Aaron.”

  “Glad I could help.”

  Sensing he was about to hang up without saying good-bye, the way he always did, Peggy twisted around in her seat, cupping a hand around the cell phone. “Oh, hey. Uh…” She lowered her voice to a murmur. “Could you give Bel a call sometime soon, maybe?”

  His pause this time was drawn out. The brothers had made serious headway in a relationship that had been contentious for too long, but neither of them were the heart-to-heart type. Even so, Aaron’s sudden worry was a tangible thing, cutting right through the distance separating them. “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” Peggy said honestly. “Maybe. I just think he needs to speak to another man. About stuff.”

  “My excitement knows no bounds,” Aaron said, voice dry as dust. “I’m going to think twice about answering your next call.”

  She half gasped, half giggled. “No, you’re not.”

  “No, I’m not.” A chair creaked on the other end. “Take care, Peggy. All right? We’ll see you soon.”

  Great. Another blast of heat behind her eyes. “You take care, too, Aaron. Bye.”

  * * *

  There were only a few moments in Elliott’s life where he could remember feeling his heart try and rip its way out through his mouth. One had been during his first division championship as head coach, when the victory had come down to his kicker making a field goal. Many games had ridden on those three points since that too-sunny afternoon, but he’d learned to calm his nerves by mentally listing everything he’d done to prepare the team before a game. And he didn’t stop until the pigskin sailed through the uprights.

  The second time his heart had made that hurtling upward journey, he’d just been informed he would become a father. Parenting had never been in the cards for Elliott, despite his staunch Catholic upbringing. He’d even discussed it with Judith and explained—in a rare moment of total, bald honesty—that he didn’t have a paternal gene in his body. She’d agreed. But somewhere along the line, she’d either changed her mind without telling him or there’d been a mistake, because a few years later, he’d stood in the hospital delivery ward, staring down at a tiny, crying little girl. One that would inevitably grow up to resent him someday.

  Now, as he heard the popping sound and watched the Suburban swerve on the highway behind him, the usually quiet organ protested inside his rib cage, attempting to tear free from its rightful place.

  “Peggy,” he shouted. Uselessly. He could do nothing. Nothing. That helplessness was so much worse than the kind he’d been living with all night, because if she were hurt or worse, he wouldn’t have a chance to make everything up to her. Wouldn’t have a chance to see her smile again or watch as she twirled a curl, worked out a problem, swallowed her pride. Would never have the chance to explain the hurtful words he’d thrown at her three years ago. So many things he’d taken for granted and it occurred to Elliott he deserved to have her taken away. To watch it happen, right there in the front row. Because she was on that highway at his behest, whether or not she denied it. Here she was, trying to solve his problems with kindness and understanding once again, and as the Suburban fishtailed…he was getting his just desserts, wasn’t he?

  Same way he’d gotten them for ignoring his responsibilities as a husband all those years ago. This was an instant replay…

  Only the stakes were through the fucking roof this time around. They weren’t just murky and undefined and yes, goddammit, burdensome. His original guilt had stemmed from not feeling enough, but if a single hair on Peggy’s head were harmed, that would be the farthest thing from the case.

  If he’d thought himself dead inside since she’d left, her light going out would seal the deal.

  Elliott released a slow, pent-up breath as the Suburban stabilized behind him. Thank God they were traveling in the middle of a weekday, because Belmont only needed to cross one empty lane, before the car jerked to a stop on the side of the road. Elliott checked his rearview and followed suit, hitting reverse down the shoulder until the vehicles were only separated by a few feet.

  “Son of a bitch,” Elliott breathed, gripping the steering wheel and willing his pulse back under control. Yeah, not happening. He could hear it thundering in his eardrums, like someone was beating a gong on either side of his head.

  “H-hey.” Alice was white as a ghost in the passenger seat. “They’re fine. We’re all fine.”

  He got the impression her fear came from seeing him unravel, rather than the potential car accident, so he performed a forward and backward mental count to bring himself back down to earth. “Sorry,” he offered.

  Alice nodded. “Maybe you should go see if they need help.”

  “Yes.” His words were punctuated, leaving his mouth the way they did during a rushed time out. “I’m just trying to get it together first.”

  “You shouldn’t.” She turned in her seat. “I mean, if I were a girl—”

  “You are a girl, Alice.”

  “A woman, then. Like Peggy,” she clarified, waving off his interjection with a red face. “I wouldn’t want a guy to hide it…if he didn’t have it
together. You should just go. Even if you’re sweating and that vein is standing out way more than usual.”

  He heaved a cut-off laugh. “Thanks.” And whether or not his daughter’s advice was the culprit, Elliott was out of the car a moment later, needing to get Peggy in his sights. Absently, he noticed the back right tire had blown, but his attention was on Peggy as she hopped out of the backseat. She was the only one to alight, while Belmont sat in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead as Peggy’s friend spoke, right up against his ear.

  “Dammit.” She turned in an outraged circle, delivering a kick to the Suburban. “Not again. I can’t believe this is happening again.”

  Heat rippled in his belly as he watched Peggy, breathtaking even in her state of visible frustration. She’d stripped off her jacket during the ride, leaving her body on display in a white tank top and silver-platter jeans, named for the manner in which they served her cheeks right up. Her blond curls vibrated with annoyance, her forehead was drawn in a sexy pout…and he wanted her like hell in that moment. Wanted to feel her life pulse under his fingertips, a concrete reminder she hadn’t been harmed, because he still hadn’t recovered. Might never get there.

  But he wouldn’t allow himself to even try for the privilege of touching Peggy. He wouldn’t slide his rough body up against the ripe tautness of her flesh again. Not until he completed the list of tasks he’d designed for himself last night.

  Lord help him, Elliott almost reached for an invisible playbook in his back pocket, the way he might during a game, when he needed to make a move. A dramatic one. Thing was, while he desperately needed to stick to the plan he’d designed to make things right with Peggy, looking at what he’d scrawled in a fevered rush last night wasn’t necessary. He remembered every word.

  1. Apologize for being a sack of shit.

  2. Be her friend first (no skipping this step).

  3. Repeat Step One.

  4. Make her aware, in no uncertain terms, that you find her extraordinary.

  5. Beg her not to leave.

  So he had a plan, per se. The execution was where he was getting stuck.

  Frankly, Step Five was terrifying as all get-out. By the time he reached the final phase of his game plan, his options could very well be whittled down to begging…for forgiveness. Only. That could be where it ended. Begging for a second chance wherein Peggy remained in Cincinnati might be so far-fetched, he would hear her laughing as she drove into the sunset, right out of town.

  Peggy fell back against the side of the Suburban and gave him a hollow look, spurring Elliott out of his head and into motion. Do or die, asshole.

  “Again?” Elliott strode for the Suburban’s rear and lowered the rusted back hatch, relieved to find a spare tire beneath the stiff, carpet panel, adjacent to a roadside emergency kit. “This isn’t the first time you’ve had car trouble on this trip, huh?”

  Her rich laughter told tales. “No. We lost the better part of a week in New Mexico.” She joined him near the deflated tire, dropping down to her haunches beside him as he inspected the blown-out rubber. It took Elliott a moment to focus because she looked like an action movie heroine, big blue sky stretching behind her, hair lifting on the wind. “We were stranded in a little town called Hurley while the local garage waited for the right part to arrive. Only…” Her voice took on a dreamlike quality. “It had been there since the second day. My sister Rita’s boyfriend, Jasper, bribed the mechanic to put off the repair so he could woo her.”

  He was dying to hold those curls back from her face. “And Rita stayed behind with him? In New Mexico.”

  “Who wouldn’t stay with a man who does something like that?” All at once, she seemed to realize whom she was conversing with and started to stand—but Elliott stopped her by grabbing her wrist.

  “You deserve that.” A wrench turned in his gut. “You deserve a man who’ll do that and more.”

  “Yeah.” She breathed the word, life snapping in her eyes. “I think I finally realized that. Right around the time I figured out it would never be you.”

  He’d prepared himself for the tackle, the verbalization that she’d definitely counted him out of the race, but all the preparation in the world wouldn’t have helped. The Elliott who’d allowed himself to live inside numbness for so long might have agreed with Peggy and willed her to move on so he wouldn’t have to feel so goddamn much. But this Elliott? He was fighting to the death. He wasn’t leaving the battlefield until he could walk away knowing he’d given her every breath in his body.

  Before he went into battle for her heart, however, she needed a different kind of hero. One that fixed a flat and made damn sure her hard work didn’t go to waste.

  Elliott stood and removed his thick sweater, leaving himself bare-chested in the crisp midmorning sunlight, just as Belmont and Sage rounded the Suburban’s rear, Alice following behind. Various reactions followed, including Belmont wordlessly covering Sage’s eyes and ushering her back around the vehicle and Alice muttering something about being in the truck, listening to the radio.

  For Peggy’s part, she stared at him like he’d just landed on Earth in a Frisbee-shaped hovercraft, preaching about the end times. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Revving her estrogen engine. That’s what Elliott was doing by stripping down to nothing but a pair of jeans on the roadside. He even had the audacity to mess up his hair in the process. The wayward strands, peppered with gray, drew an unwanted memory to the surface. Elliott, stubbled, naked, and morning-eyed, his mouth going for broke between her legs, making her late for class in the most delicious way possible.

  Great. Fabulous. Now her clit was throbbing.

  As if his physique wasn’t enough to get her lady juices flowing. Damn him, he’d always kept himself in peak condition—a fact her fellow cheerleaders had never failed to remark on after a few wine coolers—but he must have increased his gym time by double since she’d left. Because…muscles. Muscles everywhere. They almost looked drawn on, they were so defined. Those angular ridges of his abdomen vanished like a tease into his low—but snug—jeans, a mixture of dark and light hairs curling along the center of his pelvic V, the way her tongue was suddenly aching to do. And there. Now she’d done it. She was looking at his crotch.

  That package, hugged in denim, was wrapped up like a present for a birthday girl who’d been extra good all year.

  “Why.” Oh man. She sounded like a pack-a-day drag queen. No help for it, either. “Why is your shirt off?”

  He tossed the garment in question onto the Suburban’s roof. “I only have one shirt with me and I figured it for the best if I didn’t get it covered in dirt and oil.”

  “Well, sure. If you want to be practical about it.”

  One of his eyebrows lifted, completing the picture of ripped, ready, arrogant guy. At least he didn’t have mysterious going for him. That’s right. She’d solved this whodunit. No mystery whatsoever. Maybe the sex between them was tear-your-hair-out phenomenal, but everything else had gone cold. “I’m always practical, aren’t I, Peggy?” he muttered, finding a towel in the backseat and laying it down on the ground, just beside the flat tire. “That’s how you remember me, right?”

  “Sounds pretty accurate,” Peggy hedged, thrown by the questions. Deciding to make herself useful, instead of gawking at his ridiculous body like a goober, she tried to slide past Elliott so she could root through the back storage area first and figure out what she was looking for later. But Elliott moved into her space without warning, taking hold of her elbows and turning their bodies to walk them backward. Her back met the Suburban about the time anger scaled the insides of her throat like ivy. “Stop,” she pushed past clenched teeth. “I don’t want you touching me—”

  “God above, you’re fucking gorgeous, Peggy.” Her stomach hit the dusty ground. “I know people tell you all the time—which I really don’t like to consider too much—but I don’t think I’ve ever said it. Not once. And that’
s a crime, because you’ve got the kind of beauty that ties me up in eight different knots.” His fingers slipped a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s the way you straighten your spine every time you’re presented with a problem. How your eyes go wet and soft over things like people losing their farms. Your stubbornness, your willpower, your sense of humor. It’s all of you.”

  “What is this?” she managed to whisper, feeling like someone who’d just woken up in the middle of a foreign land. “What are you doing?”

  “Telling you what I see.” He planted a hand to the right of her head, his energy rippling like static over her senses. “Saying the things I should have said the first time you came to me in that locker room.”

  She barely contained a wheeze. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. It was the world’s cruelest joke that this Elliott should decide to make an appearance after she’d finally, finally, stopped hoping for him. “I don’t want to listen now. I’m not listening.”

  His nod was grave, but determined. “I’ll repeat myself until it sinks in.”

  Peggy could almost see her hand clinging to the edge of a cliff. “If this is about sex, just say so, Elliott.” Cheapen what he said, make light of it. Make it not matter. “You want to get your fill of me before I leave?” She shrugged off the niggling feeling that her words were wrong, out of place between them. “We’re both adults.”

  A flash of misery passed through his eyes and that rare show of emotion made him so there. So live and in person. Grounded and raw. She could smell his sun-warmed skin, the soap wafting off him. He was the one with his shirt off, but she’d never felt more naked in her life. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against her forehead. “You hearing me? I’m sorry. This thing between us…it went off course on the first day. The first damn day. And now we’re out at sea.”

  “So now you’re going to steer us back? I don’t think so.” Her voice was too high-pitched and unsteady, so she breathed until it was firm. “Weren’t you listening last night? It’s not going to happen. You made me…”